


Part of the Story

by PollutedFiction



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PollutedFiction/pseuds/PollutedFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Frank is leaning against the wall behind the venue during MSI's set, chainsmoking his 4th cigarette of the night, when he hears that familiar fucking shuffling of sneakers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part of the Story

**Author's Note:**

> Ideas of the end of the band through Frank's eyes flitted through my head on and off, but I didn't get the inspiration to actually write this until today, when I thought "What would Frank really do if Gerard showed up at one of his Death Spells shows?" This is the result.
> 
> Written more or less for Jettblackjune on Tumblr.

Frank is leaning against the wall behind the venue during MSI's set, chainsmoking his 4th cigarette of the night, when he hears that familiar fucking shuffling of sneakers. 

It's not like he didn't expect this eventually. He's been more than obvious, if the sheer number of sympathetic looks thrown in his direction and gentle pats on the shoulder have been anything to go by. Lynz alone has asked him if he's ok at least 7 times tonight, and it's been getting pretty old. But this – this is something else. This was deliberate on his part, even if he hates to admit it, and he brought it on himself. He can't fucking help it if he needs someone to blame whenever things go wrong. Character flaw, or whatever. So Frank inhales one last long drag of his cigarette, flicks it to the ground, and tries to sound as casual as he fucking can when he says “Hey, Gee.” 

He doesn't look up. He knows he's being a little shit, but he _can't._ He hears Gerard shuffle a bit more in that awkward way of his, and Frank knows he's probably fidgeting with his fingers when he answers with a soft “You were great tonight, Frankie.” 

“Yeah?” Frank grunts. He's really interested in kicking at the rocks by his sneakers. They're nice rocks, really. 

“Totally! I mean, you've just got all this energy! The crowd looked really fucking into it, it's a shame you didn't have the cross though, that cross would've really been something, it's so fucking dark in that venue and-” Gerard is babbling. It's another nervous habit that Frank used to find cute. Right now though, it just kind of makes him want to throw up. He needs to make Gerard shut up, needs him to cease and fucking desist. 

“It was fucking whatever.” Frank says, and it comes out with a little more venom than he intended. Gerard shuts up immediately. Frank knows he's probably working his jaw open and closed right now.“I mean-” He pauses, feels his face flush with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and that dull ache that's been eating away at him for weeks now “It's not the same.” That part comes out in a near whisper, and it feels like it's been stolen from him in a whoosh of breath. He closes his eyes tight and wills the ground to swallow him whole. 

Gerard doesn't say anything at first, and Frank is caught between feeling relieved and feeling agitated, because he really doesn't need Gerard's fucking pity. He doesn't need Gerard's anything, at this point, except for maybe less of his presence. He digs in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter, bringing it to his lips when he fishes one out. 

“I thought you quit.” Gerard sounds more curious than anything, but his tone is too soft, and Frank's not fooled. He exhales the smoke from his lungs and scowls at his feet. 

“Fuck you, _you_ quit.” He counters, and there is more than one meaning laced within that statement. Gerard makes a small noise in his throat, and Frank hears him stepping closer. His heart pumps a little faster almost immediately, he can't even help it, and this is the effect that Gerard fucking Way will always have over him. Frank hates his fucking life. Gerard's shoes come into view a moment later, beat up and dirty, and all he can feel is nostalgic. 

“Frankie.” Gerard says it gently. When it gets no answer, however, it seems to displease him, because he brings a hand up to Frank's chin, tries to force his gaze. “Frank. Look at me. It's going to be ok-” Frank is tired. Frank wants to go home. Frank really doesn't appreciate the fucking feel of Gerard's fingers, and something snaps a little inside of him when he jerks his head up fast and shoves at Gerard's chest, snarling and dropping his cigarette to the ground. 

“ _Don't_ fucking tell me it's going to be ok!” He seethes, teeth bared. Gerard has stumbled back a few inches and is staring at him now, wide eyed and uncertain. Frank takes in the simple way he's dressed, his brown hair mussed and so _natural_ that he still has a hard time believing that this is his Gerard. He can't deny that Gerard looks good, but Frank thinks that if he had the choice, he'd rather Gerard look as broken and downtrodden as he feels. He can't fucking stand the sight of him.“What the fuck are you even doing out here, Gerard? Go back inside to your wife.” He spits. 

He knows immediately that it's the wrong thing to say. 

Gerard's eyes flare, go dark, and its like watching him become Stage Gerard all over again. Frank tries to hold his ground when he stalks up to him, pushes him back hard and pins him to the cold stone wall of the venue. “What the fuck is your problem, Frank?” He hisses, and Frank snarls, pushes at him tries to break free. It's no use, and he knows it. Gerard is stronger than him now that he's lost the weight again. 

“You're my fucking problem!” he settles on instead, trying unsuccessfully to headbutt Gerard. The taller man growls at this, fists a hand in Frank's hair and forces his head back, using his other hand and his body weight to keep Frank pinned. “Let me _go,_ motherfucker!” Gerard is eye to eye with him now, breath blowing softly in his face, and Frank's gut churns when he inhales the familiar scent of coffee and something distinctly Gerard. 

“No, Frank.” Gerard grits. “Not until you fucking settle down, not until you fucking talk to me!” He shoves at Frank with his chest for emphasis, and Frank lets out a small 'unff' as his back hits the wall again. He stares into Gerard's eyes, blazing and passionate as always, and it hurts so fucking bad that he can't stand it. 

“I don't _want_ to talk to you.” He says weakly. “What I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone.” Gerard eyes him right back, and doesn't release his grip. Frank's scalp is starting to hurt from where Gerard has his hair. 

“That much is fucking obvious.” Gerard says dryly. “You didn't even fucking call me on my birthday.” Frank scowls and rolls his eyes.

“Right! I forgot, how fucking stupid of me. God fucking forbid other people have shit to do, important things to get done, and can't bend for _Gerard's_ fucking birthday. Happy fucking birthday, what the fuck ever.” Gerard makes a frustrated noise and tugs on his hair again, sharper than before, and Frank hisses in pain. 

“Frankie, stop, you fucking know what I'm-” 

“No, Gerard, you're right! I'm being completely fucking selfish. Let me remind myself how the fucking world has to stop when you decide you've had enough!” He's glaring now, his body thrumming with it, and he feel satisfaction when Gerard's body stiffens. 

“The fucking band wasn't the world, Frank!” He shouts, shaking him viciously. There's a wild look in his eyes, and Frank is reminded vaguely of the way he looked all those years ago, when they found him underneath of a stage in Japan. “It wasn't everything!”   
“It was to me!” Frank shouts back, right in his face, and he makes sure Gerard gets a nice helping of spit with his words. “Mikey, Ray, the fucking _millions_ of kids-” He takes a heavy breath, inhales slowly before he says it, “-you. It was everything, only one step below my girls and my son.” He hates himself for the sting of tears he feels behind his eyes, hates himself for his vulnerability and for his fucking therapy sessions and his fucking pills. “And you took that from me.” 

Gerard is silent again. His grip loosens in Frank's hair until his hand finally falls, fingers skimming softly but feebly down the side of Frank's face and coming to rest on his shoulder. He doesn't remove himself from Frank's personal space. 

“I didn't take anything from you, Frank.” He says it softly, but it no longer holds the pity that it did earlier. “We're all still right here.” He leans his forehead against Frank's for good measure, and Frank feels a tear leak from the corner of his eye and make it's way down his cheek. “I'm right here, and you're still making music.” He wipes the tear gently with his thumb, and Frank shuts his eyes, he can't take it anymore. 

“I told you, it's not the same.” He says, and Gerard hums softly. 

“It won't ever be.” He concedes. “It's not supposed to be. It's supposed to be about new beginnings, now.” Gerard's hands frame his neck gently, and he noses at Frank's jaw, tries to coax him to open his eyes. “And the fans know we're here, Frank. I've read their stories. I've seen it.” He places a gentle kiss just below Frank's ear, and Frank whimpers pathetically for a second, opens his eyes into slits. “So really. What have you lost?” Gerard asks softly. Frank works his throat, pulls back and stares at the other man for a handful of seconds, and hopes he hasn't read this wrong.

“You live all the way in LA, Gerard.” He whispers. “How are we supposed-” 

“You think Lynz called me all the way to Baltimore, leaving Bandit with a babysitter, in order to see her play one show?” He asks, eyebrows raised. He looks amused. “C'mon, motherfucker, you know that woman always has something up her sleeve.” 

“But you'll have to leave again.” Frank says, unconvinced. “Without the band it'll be so much harder.” 

“I'm here now, aren't I?” Gerard asks, right in his ear. “Stop thinking, Frank.” He starts to turn Frank's head towards his lips, and Frank puts his hands on Gerard's chest, holding him off for one more second. 

“We're talking about this later.” He is stern with it. There is no room for objections. “Gerard, I need to talk to you about this later.” Gerard eyes him for a second and eventually smiles gently. 

“Ok, Frankie. Later. I promise.” 

Frank is.. not better, and he's not sure he'll ever be, even with the man he loves bringing them into a slow, deep kiss that makes his toes curl and his body melt. But he is placated, for now, and he lets himself get lost in the taste of Gerard as the older man pushes his tongue past his lips, burying his hands in his hair and sighing into Frank's mouth. Frank's eyes flutter shut and he wraps his arms around Gerard's middle, fingers digging into the soft flesh and pulling him impossibly closer. It's a few long minutes before they break apart, panting, and Frank chases after Gerard's lips with soft, brief pecks, smiling for what seems like the first time in weeks. 

“Do you have somewhere we can go?” Frank asks quietly, his lips brushing Gerard's with every word. Gerard kisses him again, closed mouthed and sweet, and again. 

“Lynz got me a separate room at the hotel.” Gerard confirms. He smirks, all confidence and so fucking _Gerard_ as he crowds Frank against the wall tightly, bracketing him in with his arms. “You wanna?” He asks. Frank snorts, as if that's even a question, and tilts his head up to nip at Gerard's chin. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna.” He breathes. “But I gotta pack up our gear first. Fuckin weird, not having the tech team.” Gerard chuckles. 

“I can imagine. But don't worry about it. Dewees said he's gonna take care of it.” Frank blinks as Gerard pulls away. 

“You guys really all had this planned out, didn't you?” He asks, and Gerard positively beams at him. “You got a car?” Gerard grins. 

“Right down the street.” 

He offers Frank his hand. Frank takes it. 

It isn't going to be the same, Frank thinks. There is a lot that needs to be said, a lot that he still wants to talk about. But he feels the warmth radiating off of Gerard as he leads him through the alleyway and out onto the street, blissfully deserted. He sees the small smile that seems to be permanently etched on Gerard's features, one that he doesn't quite seem to remember being there before. He thinks that Gerard also seems to be walking a little taller, stronger, like a man returning triumphantly from a battle hard fought. He smiles, and thinks to himself, this was always Gerard's story. It was always his vision. Frank was always just along for the ride, lucky to be a part of it. 

Just as he is now. 

He squeezes Gerard's hand tight as they continue to walk, and Gerard looks over at him with a dorky smile on his face. Frank giggles, soft and happy, and asks 

“So really though. What the fuck is with the bird thing?” 

Gerard tilts his head back and laughs. Frank joins him.


End file.
